


Inexplicable Dream Team one-shots

by RavioliHailstorm



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot, Platonic Relationships, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:34:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28725174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavioliHailstorm/pseuds/RavioliHailstorm
Summary: A compilation of Dream Team fiction stories that were too short to have their own stand-alone books. Some are angsty, some are light-hearted, and some are just bizarre.Even though the Dream Team has stated that they are comfortable with fanfiction, I am happy to take this compilation book down if they request. I'm totally comfortable with them reading it :)Published from December 24th, 2020, and onward.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	1. Grim Reaper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLATONIC  
> **Content warnings: mentions of death & murder**

~Dream~

Cold dew collected on my lips and seeped through my thin clothes, chilling me to the bone. Teeth chattering, I shivered. When my eyelids lifted, I expected to see a grainy hospital ceiling above my head. Instead, I saw nothing except mottled gray. My eyes widened; instantly alert, I jolted upright from where I lay on my back.

My heart beat echoed in my ears as I looked around. Fog engulfed my surroundings, so dense I could barely discern what lay a meter beyond me. Tentatively stretching out a hand, I gaped when the mist swallowed up my fingers. Where am I?

Wearing only a pitiful t-shirt and shorts, I became even more aware of the freezing air as it sapped my energy. Hugging myself, I stood upon the stinking, peaty ground. Blinking hard, I slowly turned. With a cautious step forward, I chose a direction and wandered. Hearing nothing except my footsteps crunching on gravel and sloshing through mud, I heaved a deep breath to quiet my rising panic. Did anyone else know I was here? Would it be wise to call out for help?

Suddenly, a male voice echoed through the mist.

"Where do you think you're going?"

I gasped and spun around. The mist parted, revealing a figure standing behind me. They wore a fluttering blue cloak with an upturned collar, a black earpiece, black leather boots, and a disinterested expression. In one hand, they clutched a long staff whose base poked into the soft ground; a long, intimidating blade curved down from the top. Even longer than my di-

"George, did you locate him?" A voice crackled through the figure's earpiece.

Lifting the other pale hand from within his cloak, the figure pressed a button on their earpiece and confirmed, "Yeah, I found him." They raised an eyebrow at me. "This idiot has no idea where he's going. I'm bringing him now."

"Copy that." The voice went silent.

"Wait, woah, hold on." I backed away, suspicious of the strange figure. "Who are you? Who were they? Where are you bringing me?"

"I'm George." Straightening, the figure introduced himself. Remaining in place, he answered each question, "That person in the earpiece was my manager; they're pretty chill. I'm a reaper, bringing you to the Afterlife." As if his explanation were enough, George whipped around, his fluttering blue cloak fanning the fog. "Let's go, big boy." Adopting a brisk pace, he departed.

"Wait, don't leave!" Despite my wariness of the stranger, I realized he might be the only entity nearby, and I had no desire for isolation in the frigid fog. Racing after George, I slowed until I matched his pace two meters behind. Hesitantly I asked, "If this is the Afterlife, which place are you taking me to?"

"'Which place?' Heaven and Hell are both myths," George dismissed, although his tone grew empathetic as he led us onward. "There's only the Afterlife. Everyone ends up in the same place. It's pointless to imagine heading anywhere else, depending on... what? Some set of ambiguous moral principles everyone is supposed to share?"

"Oh."

"Sorry if that was a lot," George apologized brusquely. Glancing at me over his shoulder, he encouraged, "Don't worry, we'll arrive at the Afterlife soon. Your body's in the Overworld, but I can't say for certain what's happening to it."

"You mean, I'm dead?" I protested in disbelief. Without waiting for a response, I ran my hands along my arms, patting my belly and thighs; although ice-cold, the flesh was solid. "I feel like crap, but I don't feel dead."

George did not respond, leaving us in melancholy silence as we walked. The fog parted for the reaper as he led the way; despite a lack of landmarks, I assumed he must possess some sort of GPS or an internal perception of the area to navigate with such confidence.

"How long am I going to be here?" My words sent billowing clouds into the air as I rubbed my arms.

George rolled his eyes. "Oh my god, can you stop asking questions, please? I'm not God. I can't answer everything!"

Relishing how I annoyed him, I asked deviously, "If you're not God, how can I meet them?"

"She doesn't take walk-in appointments," George recited. "You must reserve an appointment at least a week in advance. The details are on her website."

"You're telling me all I have to do to meet God is make an appointment on a website?" I could hardly believe my ears, but it would not be the craziest news I had heard all day. Suddenly intrigued, I asked, "What do you know about me, George? Do you know my name, or anything about me?"

"Yeah, of course." Faltering slightly, he extended the clenched fist which carried his scythe and rolled his sleeve up to his elbow. Reading letters scrawled upon his pale forearm, George pronounced, "You're, um, Dream?" He blinked at me for verification.

"That's me," I affirmed. George did not name further information about me, but his knowledge of my name unnerved me.

Without breaking stride, the reaper twisted his scythe to a horizontal position; opening a small compartment along the side, he dumped a small pile of white beads into his free hand, then popped the beads into his mouth. Chewing, he poured a second handful, extended his hand backward to me, and offered, "Gum?"

"Uh, sure." I accepted the white beads from his hand, popped them into my mouth, and chewed carefully. Freshmint. Adjusting to the gum's stretchy texture in my mouth, I investigated, "Aren't other people dying right now?" How could George attend every dying person in the world?

"The Afterlife employs more reapers than only me," George explained. "My coworkers are out in the mist, too, busy guiding spirits or looking for spirits to guide."

"When does your shift end?"

George considered. He rolled up his cloak's sleeve to check his watch, then answered nonchalantly, "Three hours from now."

"Damn, that's rough," I empathized. "Almost worse than dying."

Despite his previous annoyance at my relentless curiosity, George smiled with amusement. Then, it was his turn to ask a question, "Dream, how did you die, if you don't mind me asking?"

I blinked with surprise. "You don't know how I died?"

"No, but you don't seem like you would've been easy to kill."

"Well, it was pretty insane," I dramaticized. "My last words were, 'I'm a bad bitch, you can't kill me!'"

"Oh, really?" George suppressed a laugh. "What happened next?"

"They killed me."

"Who would have expected that?" The reaper questioned sarcastically. As our laughter quieted, he asked, "How did you really die, if you would like to say?" He sensed my use of humor as a coping mechanism.

"It was an accident," I confessed, reluctantly shifting the mood from enjoyable to somber. "I was being stupid, and... I hope my family and friends don't blame themselves."

"Oh," George acknowledged quietly. "I'm sorry, Dream. I'm sure everyone will understand." His apology was simple but genuine.

Through the dense fog, black spires loomed in the distance. Hastening my pace, I passed George until I stumbled upon a pair of massive gates, towering above me; beyond the iron bars, more mist lay beyond. On either side of the gates stood a mossy, coal-black tower. From the left tower, a glass window opened, revealing a new figure. They wore a flowing orange cloak with an similarly upturned collar, similar to George's outfit. Sticking their head out the window, they called,

"George, hey, is that Dream?"

"That's him," George confirmed.

"Alright, Dream, I'll mark down your arrival. Hold on." Briefly the figure receded into the window, then popped their head out again. "You look hella cold, dude. You died in those pathetic clothes? Take a cloak." I caught the lump of fabric he tossed down and unfurled a green cloak. Enthusiastically wrapping the cloak around my shoulders, I sighed with relief when it provided instant warmth against the frigid air. Meanwhile, the tower employee introduced himself, "I'm Sapnap, by the way."

"Nice to meet you!" I called back, then turned as George cleared his throat.

"This is the end of the path," he confessed. "I have to fetch another lost spirit." Expressing a more comfortable sense of humor, George mused, "This guy's last words were, 'what are you going to do, stab me?'" He shrugged with a sly smirk. "You can guess what happened next."

With a genuine laugh, I dipped my head to him. "Thanks for being my reaper, George! I hope the rest of your shift goes well!"

Smiling brightly, George accepted. "Bye, Dream! Have fun in the Afterlife!" Turning away, cloak fluttering in his wake, he disappeared into the fog. I watched, sighing forlornly as I pondered the idea of not spending more time with the stubborn mule.

"Don't be sad," Sapnap called from the tower; glancing away, he pressed an unseen button. A low groan echoed; I leapt back as the black iron gates creaked open. "George will come back once his shift ends. Maybe the three of us can hang out together once he and I get off work."

"Sounds awesome, but...?"

When I still hesitated to advance, Sapnap realized, "Oh, right, sorry. I have to grant your entry." Clearing his throat, he officiated, "Welcome, Dream! Please step through the gates."

Gathering my wits, I obeyed, trusting in my two new friends as I entered the Afterlife.


	2. Sun and Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ROMANTIC

~Dream, the sun~

Our paths in the sky would never cross. We were doomed to an eternity without meeting each other. During the day, my light shone over the teeming Earth below, cultivating the plants. During the night, I receded into the horizon, where sleep whisked me away until the moon took my place.

I wondered what the moon's voice sounded like. Up close, could he be as perfect as he appeared? Did the moon gaze upon me with admiration, heart blooming with love, or did he regard me with jealousy, wishing he were the commanding force in the sky instead?

People inhabiting the Earth debated our silent battle in the sky. They asked each other with mild curiosity who preferred the day or night, as if no human could appreciate both. Day and night were supposed to be opposites, but I wanted to see the moon on the other side of the planet, watch him cast his subtle glow upon the dark Earth. He absorbed peaceful mutters of sleeping humans, monitored nocturnal animals, marveled at fireflies dancing in the shadows. I had never seen the nighttime, for the night faded whenever I approached. Both the moon and I could only travel one way at one speed.

I burned voraciously; no one on the earth could view my face for longer than the briefest of glances. However, people on Earth could marvel at the moon for hours, but because his axis turned at the same speed as the Earth's rotation, the people could only view one side of his face. He appeared aloof, stony, cold blue against my warm yellow glow, but I had seen the other side of him from afar. Inside, he was a stubborn mule with a soft center, compelling my interest like no other celestial entity.

Sometimes, while I soared above the rotating world, I saw the moon from the corner of my vision. I pondered the moon's thoughts as he crept beneath me, still too far for us to exchange words. I suspected our feelings were mutual; even when we shared the sky for a mere minute, we did not remove our eyes from each other. Our communication of affection consisted of a gentle but enthusiastic wave in the other's direction. All humans saw was a unique day when the moon was somehow still visible in the sky, faint beneath the sun's glaring light.

During these fleeting glimpses was how we discovered the other's existence, and how we introduced ourselves through rushed hand gestures. He spelled his name, George, and I spelled mine, Dream. Gradually, we developed an understanding of the other, and a mutual pining for a romance neither of us could pursue.

Then, a new day came. It began like any other, as I moved through the unbreakable habit of feeding the Earth. Plants greedily sucked in energy, dolphins played in the sea, coral reefs crowded with life, and children stretched their arms upward to bask in my glory. No trace of nighttime remained, leaving no sign of the moon like usual. My light banished the darkness far before I could see my distant lover.

I focused my gaze upon the planet, observing the fluffy clouds and rippling oceans. When movement flickered in my peripheral vision, I glanced, then did a double take. I had no expectation of another celestial entity seeing me at this time, let alone advancing dangerously close to me. My breath hitched in my throat as I saw the moon. George.

Today was the solar eclipse.

My heart ached for him. Instantly I thought of feelings I yearned to pour out. You're handsome, you're perfect, I love you... but my mouth only hung open, wordless.

Equally overwhelmed, George approached at a painfully slow pace, allowing me to observe his features more clearly. Feathery dark hair, deep brown eyes, faint freckles upon his face, pouting lips, dainty eyelashes, and a contagious smile. With one wrist, he shielded his eyes against my harsh glare; despite his scrunched expression, his gaze scanned me hungrily.

My heart skipped a beat as George lingered closer than I could ever remember. Despite my scorching heat, I noticed hairs rising along his neck and forearms as he neared me, impossibly near, yet still out of reach.

"Dream?" He uttered my name. Sweating profusely with heat, I shivered as I heard his voice for the first time. The moon was British.

"George."

"Wait, what the hell? You're - why is the sun American?" His voice was sharp with disbelief.

"I spend a lot of time there," I laughed. When we quieted, tension settled over us.

Ultimately, George stood before me, blocking my light from the Earth's surface and casting the planet in an eerie orange glow. I hugged myself to avoid damaging his sensitive pale skin by reaching to touch him. Our orbits would not allow us to remain together for long: one minute to learn everything I could about my celestial counterpart.

"Tell me about yourself," I urged. "How is the nighttime? How do you see in the dark? What do fireflies look like?"

"Nighttime is beautiful," George answered, slightly dazed from my plethora of eager questions. "Surely not as pretty as daytime, though. I've never seen the light up close. It feels warm, and, oh, what do the flowers look like? What do bees look like?"

"Everything is wonderful."

"Being the moon every day gets boring sometimes."

"I know what you mean."

"What's it like to control the plants?" George whispered, voice quaking with awe.

"What's it like to control the tides?" I returned, sweating profusely.

We lost ourselves in each other's eyes, even as a faint tug began to pull George away from me. Likewise, my never-ending orbit urged me away from him.

"I can't stay," George whispered apologetically.

"I know," I cooed. Both of us fell silent, wishing to savor this union for a moment longer. Please, just another few seconds with him... What did he do to entertain himself? What were his hopes and dreams? What was his favorite thing to see at night? What daytime things did he dream of seeing?

An invisible force tugged George along, forcing us apart, leaving hours' worth of conversation unspoken.

"See you at the next eclipse," George promised, raising his voice across the distance separating us.

"I'll be waiting," I responded hopefully, but disappointment weighted my heart. The eclipse terminated, leaving my unobstructed light shining upon the Earth again. Before George receded from earshot, I shouted, "Have a good night! I miss you!"

"Have a good day! I miss you, too!" Sending a final glance in my direction, he continued on his orbit, racing to escape into the bitter cold of nighttime once again. Distance could not break our bond of love, our mutual bond of lapsing companionship. I was his sun. He was my moon. We were each other's sky, each other's comfort, each other's everything.


	3. Submerged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLATONIC  
> **Content warnings: panic attack, trauma, mentions of injury/gore**

~Dream~

Visiting Sapnap nowadays was a somber experience. In his reduced state, he could not live at home anymore; instead, he occupied a singular room in the scientific research institute. Our friend appeared nothing like himself, although George and I knew based on his brain waves he was very much alive. To our disappointment, the brain wave patterns scratched onto the polygraph paper often expressed distress, betrayal, and defeat.

When George and I stepped into Sapnap's room, closing the door behind us, the polygraph's minimal brain wave patterns did not ignite. Our friend did not realize we were here yet. We placed our belongings upon the white-tiled floor on one side of the research institute room, expecting another day of Sapnap's unsolvable misery.

We stood before our friend again, silent as we remembered for the hundredth time the terrible accident which nearly took his life.

"Want to give him a message?" I asked George softly.

My friend's deep brown eyes slowly dragged from our friend's fragile state. If Sapnap could hear us or speak to us, he would ask what had happened to him. His disorientation had only worsened with time.

George and I frequently disagreed on whether to inform Sapnap of his dire predicament. I professed honesty was the best policy, while George wanted to disguise the truth. As months passed, we told Sapnap nothing. He had remained in this strange state, precariously balanced between existing and not, for several months.

"Maybe we should tell him," George mumbled, finally deviating from his earlier opinion.

"I think so, too," I agreed.

"It still feels too soon, though," he commented. "What if he doesn't realize we were trying to help him?"

"It's been four months, George," I reminded him gently. "We've visited Sapnap every few days. He'll know we did our best." Approaching the computer which stood beside our friend, I powered on the monitor and opened the direct messaging application. "How about I start with a greeting, so he knows we're here?"

"Alright," George accepted curtly. "Maybe we can take him outside, too. He enjoys that."

Humming, I nodded. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, typed a brief message, and clicked 'send'.

~Sapnap~

Was this even reality? Why was I stuck with a near-constant lack of stimuli? I could not move anymore. I had no sense of body anymore. If I still retained nerve endings, they had been numb for months. The only explanation I fathomed was I lay paralyzed in the scientific research institute, recovering from some awful accident I could not remember. No matter the cause of my reduced state, I was stuck in a never-ending nightmare.

I could not speak or express my thoughts. Without company, I faced endless boredom. For a majority of the time, my vision was off, my hearing was off, and senses of touch and taste were long gone. However, my mind was always alive. My soul lay floating in a void, silently calling for help. The persistent feeling of being monitored relaxed when my drifting mind slept, yet returned the instant I woke. My new life seemed devoid of choice; hopelessness and defeat weighed heavily on me.

Sometimes when my hearing was off, messages popped into my head; words which I could neither hear nor see, yet I could understand. Messages updated me on current world events and my friends' lives, but only described vague information about my own situation. I had no way of responding, but somehow, words changed style in following messages, acknowledging my feelings as if they could read my thoughts.

Recently, I had awoken from sleep, in time to receive today's first message:

"Good morning, Sapnap. It's Dream (me) and George, just visiting. Would you like to go out to the balcony?"

The balcony! I loved the balcony. Excitement surged in me. Travelling to the balcony meant seeing, hearing, receiving mental stimulation.

In response to my desperate enthusiasm, another message popped into my head.

"Alright :) we'll set everything up."

Several minutes passed as my mind buzzed until suddenly, my vision turned on. I could not choose where my eyes pointed, so I saw the usual sight before me: an all-white room with a tiled floor, sharp corners, grainy ceiling, and a metallic gray door barely visible in my peripheral vision.

Standing before me were my best friends, Dream and George, dressed in casual attire, wearing their "Verified Visitors" lanyards. They did not look in my direction; instead, they leaned behind me, lips moving as they moved unknown objects.

When my hearing turned on, I recognized Dream's triumphant voice.

"There we go!" Lifting his head, he gazed up at George from where he knelt on the white-tiled floor beside me. "George, you ready?"

"Yeah. You take Sapnap. I'll bring all the tech." At George's short confirmation, Dream smiled toward me.

"Let's go outside, okay?" Stepping toward me, Dream penetrated my personal space. If I could have moved, I might have backed away in surprise as his arms went past my vision. I heard him grunt as he lifted a heavy object.

George stepped behind me, and my vision lifted. Eager to see something besides the research institute room, I observed my surroundings as we passed through a long hospital-like hallway. A few pairs of feet passed; from the exclusive view allowed to me, I only saw the bottom of lab coats, dangling lanyards of scientific researchers, and scrubs upon shoes.

Neither Dream nor George spoke, at least not above careful murmurs to eat other,

"I'm not trailing any cords, right?" George asked.

"You've got them all." Dream confirmed.

"Good. Need help carrying him?" George offered.

"Nah, he's not too heavy, but thanks," Dream politely declined.

A low, reverberating sloshing drowned out their voices, like water in a fishtank. It overwhelmed my hearing; if I could have moved or even felt my hands, I would have clapped them over my ears in a vain effort to mitigate the intense noise. Dream and George paid little attention to the sloshing; could they even hear it?

Then, our team turned a corner, and I saw the balcony. It lay only fifteen meters from where I resided, but it was the farthest I had knowingly traveled for the last few months.

When we reached the wooden balcony, George set down whatever objects he carried behind my vision. Then, with open arms, he jogged ahead of Dream, who still stood in the doorway behind my field of view. The sloshing sound quieted as Dream stopped moving; my numb lungs breathed a sigh of relief.

We waited, Dream with patience and me without, as George opened the massive fabric umbrella overlooking three chairs upon the planks and vases of flowers along the balcony's railing.

"It's steady," George affirmed, testing the umbrella's catch. Apparently, direct sunlight for even a short amount of time could harm me; thus, I spent all my time inside or shielded by the balcony's umbrella to block the light.

Then, George rushed back, handling the technology behind me as he and Dream moved forward together. Gently arranging the unseen objects and setting me upon the balcony's far chair, they sat in their own seats.

My vision overlooked the city from a stationary position, allowing me to thoroughly analyze the patch of bustling metropolis my vision focused on.

Honking cars, shouting pedestrians, cooing pigeons, rustling of leaves in trees, and whistling wind entertained my hearing. Dream and George exchanged quiet conversation between themselves, occasionally directing remarks toward me. Whenever they spoke to me, they never made direct eye contact, instead glancing at a spot beside where I saw them from.

Suddenly frustrated I could not ask why life was no longer fruitful, no longer enjoyable, I felt overworked with emotion.

Why can't I speak? Why doesn't anyone make eye contact anymore? Why is everyone around me always so sad? Why can't I speak? Why can't I taste or touch anything? Why can't I move unless someone else moves me? Am I paralyzed? Why do my vision and hearing turn on and off?

I wanted to scream, yet for the above reasons, I could not. Explain it to me! I needed answers!

My friends overlooked the city for now, but at a strange scribbling sound from behind me, Dream glanced over. His teal eyes widened.

"George," he murmured. George turned to look where Dream's gaze focused, at an unseen thing behind me. "He's upset."

"Are the waves usually that crazy?" George appeared worried, staring as a scratching sound scribbled from behind me. Why is he so uptight now?

"No." Despite Dream's carefully blank expression and low voice, his eyes were wild with panic. Why don't you smile and laugh with me anymore? Why do I feel like an object?

"Let's use the sedative." George's statement was more of an unsure question.

"Do it," Dream agreed, although his shadowed gaze indicated he was not happy about whatever sedative they were mentioning.

George disappeared behind my vision. I heard crinkling, like the sound of a packet opening, then a sandy substance pouring. A British voice reassured, "It's okay, Sapnap. We're just trying to calm you down. It'll wear off in a few minutes."

Within moments, my awareness dissipated. My panic lessened, along with all other emotions. Suddenly too exhausted to think, my soul shrank into itself.

"Don't worry, Sapnap." Dream's voice was thick with grief as he made unnerving eye contact for the first time. "I know you're afraid and can't talk to us, but we understand. Don't feel any pressure to exert yourself." Turning to George, he murmured, "Maybe we should take him back inside soon."

No! I loved being outside. Suddenly regretting my emotional outburst, I wanted to beg, plead with them to keep me here on the balcony. Alas, I was drowning.

~Dream~

Once Sapnap's brain waves slowed upon the polygraph, George and I remained beside him on the balcony for another twenty-five minutes before bringing our poor friend back inside. His wave patterns expressed a silent cry for help as we returned him and his supplies to the dull research institute room. Guilt overwhelmed me.

Stepping back, George and I observed the cubic meters' worth of experimental machinery functioning day and night to keep Sapnap alive. A specialized oxygen tank, a microphone, camera, data storage, polygraph machine, speakers, pH sensors, computers, and an emergency life support system... all arranged directly behind our friend where he could not sense it.

We turned off the high-resolution camera; Sapnap's brain waves flickered in protest upon the polygraph as his vision subsequently shut off.

We unplugged the microphone leading to the waterproof speakers which faced where Sapnap lay. The brain waves flickered again as our friend's hearing vanished as well.

Someday, the scientific research institute hoped to invent a device which would allow Sapnap to relay thoughts more clearly, but research for an output device had been slower to create than input devices which fed him information.

After disabling our friend's senses, we hoped to appease him with feeding. George lifted a small, pint-sized container, and dumped a hideous, mottled mixture of liquid. It clouded the electrolyte water solution surrounding our friend, staining it a rusty orange color, dark with nutrients for keeping Sapnap's remains alive.

I observed a piece of notepad paper sitting on the desk beside Sapnap; I had written a draft, which George reviewed and approved. We were going to tell him the truth.

George and I never thought we would regret agreeing to the medical procedure, one which rescued Sapnap from death when most of his body was utterly decimated.

Anticipating a frenzy of upcoming brain waves tracked on the polygraph, George and I watched with gloomy apprehension as we sent the message:

"Sapnap, this is from both Dream (me) and George.

We know you feel lost. Just know, you're still real. You're alive. George and I care about you so much, and we know you have a lot to say without an ability to say it. The institute is working on a machine so you can tell us what you're thinking, but development has been slow.

We know you're scared, and we're sorry we couldn't tell you the truth sooner. We hoped it would turn out better than this, Sapnap, better than you being only a brain submerged in a jar."


	4. Passing Notes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLATONIC OR ROMANTIC (open to interpretation)  
> **Content warnings: mild nsfw**

~Sapnap~

Despite our busy schedules, my friend Dream and I managed to sneak hangout time into school activities. Frequently we passed notes in class for exchanging our daily experiences, help on homework, and stupid jokes.

The ticking clock above the classroom door read 9:38am: nearly the end of the second period. I sighed, struggling to pay attention. History was my passion, but today my frazzled mind inhabited the gutter.

When I glanced across the classroom toward a seat several columns aside and two rows up from mine, I smiled to myself as I saw Dream gently tearing a section of lined paper from his notebook before furiously scribbling a message upon it. My friend folded the paper, waited for the teacher to face the whiteboard, then twisted to hand it purposefully to a student between us: Karl. Our middle man knew the drill. Leaning forward and to the side, he grasped the note, then swiveled in his seat to pass it to me.

Placing the paper upon my notepad, I unwrinkled the folds to read,

"You look tired today, what's up? I have granola bars if you missed breakfast."

My gaze lifted to see Dream facing forward, hastily scribbling the history notes he missed while writing the note to me. Gingerly drawing my miniature notepad from a side pocket of my backpack on the floor beside my desk, I responded,

"You know me too well. Want to meet up at lunch or sooner? We could sneak out >:) and do some naughty things ;P"

Passing the note to the patiently waiting Karl, I watched as he tapped Dream's shoulder. My friend turned expectantly, received the note, unfolded it, read the words, then immediately leaned to slowly unzip his backpack. Hunger roiled in my belly as he pulled out a granola bar and passed it along the short chain. I received the bar and promptly ripped open the package for my long-awaited breakfast. When I looked up again, I saw Dream ripping out another section of paper. Unfortunately, the tearing sound was not as subtle this time.

"What are you writing, Clay?" The teacher turned, glaring at Dream with a raised eyebrow.

"A note," he answered honestly, drawing the attention of the rest of the class.

"A note to whom?" Turning fully, the teacher crossed their arms with mild annoyance.

"To a friend."

"Would you mind reading it to the class?"

I expected Dream to refuse; whatever he was writing was surely private, or otherwise inappropriate for school. Defying my expectations, a worrying glint entered my friend's eye as he glanced back toward me. "Sure. How about I read it from the front of the room?"

My stomach flipped; classmates snickered or gaped as Dream calmly stood from his desk, then advanced briskly to the front of the classroom. Confused and faintly worried, the teacher moved aside to give him space. Clearly they had not expected his brazen confidence either.

Squaring his shoulders, Dream's teal gaze swept the class. His freckled cheeks displayed a slight blush, but his voice was steady as he extravagantly lifted the paper, cleared his throat, and opened his mouth to read the note. However, when his eyes reviewed the written words, Dream lost his composure. Instantly he burst into a fit of contagious giggles. I suppressed an amused smile as, in between wheezes of laughter and knee slaps, Dream read aloud,

"Ooh baby, that granola bar won't be the only deliciously filling thing you'll shove down your throat today. Let me squeeze that plush ass, you sexy beast."

Still bent over from laughing, Dream concluded, "And I was in the process of drawing myself fondling Sapnap's booty, but I didn't have time to finish." Finally, his giggles subsided, though his freckled face remained flushed. Lowering the note, he looked up with smug satisfaction at the horrified teacher, then promptly crossed the classroom to slap the note upon my desk. "Sorry for spoiling the surprise, Sapnap." He winked.

Despite my supreme embarrassment before the baffled class, I could not help but laugh, too. Like my companion, I decided to own the situation instead of succumbing to it. Standing from my seat as he weaved through the desks to sit in his, I pointed to him.

"Uh huh, Dream," I accused sarcastically. "You act like you're going to squeeze my ass when really, I'll be the one pounding into yours!" Biting my lip and lifting my eyebrows flirtatiously, I pointed at him with double finger guns. "Get ready for my sap in your nap."

Surprised, Dream whipped around in his seat to face me. Springing from our seats, we crossed the room for an aggressively warm hug as half the class remained silent from shock and the other half erupted into puzzled applause.

Predictably, we spent lunchtime in detention together. Worth it.


End file.
